“I see you’re making friends,” commented Flicker.

With no documents to flip through, the clerk didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He fidgeted with his fingers until he laced them together inside his sleeves and held them still.

Yep, I replied before I crunched into a spoon cabbage leaf. Mmm, it was so much crisper and sweeter than the one I’d bitten in a fit of rage in the Jeks’ vegetable patch. I do need allies if I’m going to keep Taila alive.

“Allies – or tools?” he retorted.

Is there a difference?

He sighed. “For you, no.”

There wasn’t much to add to that, so I didn’t bother. Instead, we lapsed into a comfortable silence while I ate and he shuffled his feet.

At last, I took pity on him and asked between bites, How’re things going up there anyway?

His voice was curt, but the speed at which he answered told me that he was grateful for something to do besides watch me chew. “Same old, same old. Souls need reincarnating. Gods need placating.”

How’s Glitter doing? Getting along with Cassius? The question wasn’t all flippant: I needed to know if the Superintendent of Reincarnation might ally herself with my enemy.

Flicker’s grimace put my mind at ease. “Glitter is experienced at the inner workings of a bureaucracy.”

Whereas Cassius isn’t?

“Oh, he is. He is.” The clerk hesitated, as if debating whether to spread office gossip to one of the souls it concerned. “The Star of Heavenly Joy is on the verge of getting himself appointed Assistant Director of Reincarnation.”

He is???

My first reaction was pure, unadulterated horror. My second was surprise that it had taken him so long.

So what’s taking him so long? I asked. Did Lady Fate have another vision or something? Although I started out sarcastically, halfway through it turned into a genuine question.

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Flicker assured me. “There are just a lot of procedures that candidates have to go through before they can be formally appointed to a position like that. First of all, they have to serve for a certain period of time at the bureau in order to become eligible. That rule was instituted to ensure that officials are familiar with how their bureaus function, and that they can work with their colleagues.”

I could imagine why that rule had been instituted. Doubtless, in the past, some god had wrangled a directorship for his wildly-unqualified favorite child, and said child had wreaked so much havoc that not even Heaven could overlook it. Nepotism had happened a lot on Earth too, even without my active encouragement. For all I knew, it was still happening. In fact, it probably was. I spared a moment for regret that I was no longer in any position to abet it.

By “colleagues,” I assume you don’t mean star sprites? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I did not get the impression that Glitter is a fan of Cassius’.

Alas, Flicker didn’t let me tempt him into saying anything damaging about his boss. “As I said, the Superintendent is experienced at the inner workings of a bureaucracy and does not let her personal feelings interfere with her professional duties.”

Ha. Meaning she detested Cassius but couldn’t do anything besides work around him.

What other procedures does he have to go through before he can get appointed Assistant Director?

“The director of the bureau, the Kitchen God in this case, has to file a formal recommendation with the Office of the Evening Star. The Evening Star is the Director of Heavenly Affairs,” Flicker reminded me, in case I’d forgotten.

How could I have? That was the god I’d wanted to appeal to when Cassius stole Glitter’s seal and kicked me back down from Green to White Tier. At the time, Flicker had flat-out refused to let me try, claiming that the Evening Star would be too busy to see me and that his two Assistant Directors, She Who Hears the Cries of the World and She Who Sees the Suffering of the World, were not authorized to issue judgments on his behalf.

Most useless complaints department ever.

I assume the Evening Star is too busy to review these recommendations in a timely manner?

At least, he’d better be.

“That’s part of it. But before the recommendation reaches his desk, it goes to a committee composed of all the directors and assistant directors of all the bureaus and ministries, plus some gods and goddesses who are honorary committee members, for meticulous review. They and their clerks analyze the candidate’s record in order to decide whether he is suitable for the position. They also need to determine whether they can work with him in perpetuity.”

That seemed shockingly sensible, for Heaven.

“If the committee recommends him for the position, then their recommendation goes to the Office of the Evening Star. After he stamps it, it goes to the Jade Emperor for His Heavenly Majesty’s seal. That last step is usually, but not always, routine.”

Of course. There was always the chance that your rivals would feed rumors to the Jade Emperor that you weren’t suitable for the job. I hoped Cassius’ enemies were hard at work.

What happens if the Jade Emperor rejects it?

“If His Heavenly Majesty declines to approve the recommendation, it goes back to the committee, which decides whether to drop it or to send it back to the submitting bureau. If they choose the latter, then in turn, the bureau has the options of either dropping it or of submitting an appeal and supplementary documentation.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I love it! I cried. I love it! I love it so much!

Flicker blinked, caught off guard. “You love the, uh – ” he frowned down at the rosewood casket, trying to identify the vegetable on top – “the spoon cabbages? I’ll pass along your compliments to the Star of Reflected Brightness.”

Oh, yeah, those too. But I meant the appointment system! It’s so…thorough.

Thoroughly convoluted, that was. There was so much opportunity for backstabbing and backroom politicking and good old-fashioned bickering that you’d never get anything done! What a miracle of bureaucracy!

Flicker, as a participant in aforementioned bureaucracy, didn’t look nearly so impressed. I supposed that after so many – what, centuries? Millennia? – he’d become blinded to the awesomeness of its inefficiency.

So where’s Cassius in this process?

“It is commonly believed that the committee of directors and assistant directors is on the verge of recommending him for the position.”

Ah. I nodded sagely. So it will only take another couple hundred years for the recommendation to actually make it to the Jade Emperor.

It was a random guess, but I must have struck too close to the truth.

“Just finish your vegetables, will you?” Flicker snapped. “I really do need to get back before anyone realizes I’m missing. If we get caught, you’re not going to like the results any more than I will!”

As I’d already calculated, the clerk would get into a lot more trouble than I, whereas Aurelia would either get into even more trouble than he – or float away unscathed, depending on how she wielded her politics. But it didn’t benefit me to expose either of them at the moment, so I bent my head back over my salad.

Ah, what a wonderful way to end the year, with good food, informative conversation, and useful allies. As the water clock flowed towards the new year, I was looking forward to it.

----------------------------------------

The sentiment did not last.

Oh, I was pleased to see that modern-day Sericans still celebrated a multi-day New Year. The first few days were packed with prescribed visits to various categories of family and friends. On the fifth day, shops reopened to the accompaniment of offerings to the God of Wealth. And on the fifteenth, the holidays terminated with the Lantern Festival. As usual, all the ceremonies were scaled way down from what I remembered, but I was still glad to see these people making their best attempt to uphold tradition.

However, I was much, much less pleased to discover that they had added to the list of traditions.

It seemed innocuous enough at first. Early in the morning on the fourth day, Mistress Jek went into town on her own and returned hours later with a cloth-covered basket over her arm. I could smell the fresh pastries halfway across the yard, and Taila dropped the stick she was using to write “Happy New Year” and dashed for her mother.

Manners, Taila! I snapped.

She skidded to a stop, bowed, and directed a practiced, guileless smile up at Mistress Jek. “Welcome home, Mother! What is that? What didja get?!”

I sighed. We still had a ways to go.

Unfortunately, Mistress Jek had grown lax when it came to parental supervision during the holidays, and she failed to correct her daughter. “Fox cakes!” she grinned. “It’s the Fourth, ‘member? I had to stand in line for hours, but I got ‘em. HEY!” She raised her voice in that old bellow. “THE FOX CAKES ARE HERE! COME EAT WHILE THEY’RE STILL HOT!”

Double sigh. Once the holidays ended, I was going to have to re-teach a lot of lessons.

Off in the distance, I heard the boys’ excited voices.

“Ma’s back!”

“Fox cakes! Fox cakes!”

“Race you! Winner gets the biggest one!”

A clatter of footsteps, like a pack of deer demons.

“Hey! No fair! You pushed me! PA! CAILUS PUSHED ME!”

“Boys, boys, no pushin’.” The exhaustion in Master Jek’s voice could have rivaled Flicker’s.

The stampede soon reached the yard, with Cailus in the lead, Nailus hot on his heels with his fist clenched on the back of his brother’s tunic, and Ailus and their father following at a more dignified pace.

“CAILUS! NO PUSHING! NAILUS! LET GO OF YOUR BROTHER RIGHT THIS INSTANT! BEFORE YOU RIP HIS CLOTHING!”

Mistress Jek did not sound at all tired, even though she was the one who’d made the trek into and back from town and stood in line for hours, apparently, to purchase a basketful of pastries. After her sons calmed down, she whipped off the cloth and tipped the basket forward to show off – two ivory-colored blobs with a red, four-legged creature painted on top.

She’d stood in line all morning for that?

“Now,” she asked dramatically, “who wants to bite her head off?”

What barbaric question was this? Bite whose head off?

A chorus of “ME! ME!” from the three younger children answered her. Ailus, the oldest child, stood back and grinned at his little brothers and sister.

“I wanna bite her head off!” shouted Cailus.

“No fair!” Nailus yelled back. “You got to last year!”

“Well, there’re two! You bite one, I bite one!”

“NOOOOO! No fair!” Taila’s face was turning red with rage. She reached up, trying to grab one of the pastries first. “I WANNA BITE PIRI’S HEAD OFF!”

The scuffle continued for a while after that, but I barely registered Mistress Jek cuffing her children for acting like savages, berating Cailus for being too old to fight with his little siblings over the first bite, and then handing one fox cake each to Nailus and Taila.

Fox cakes.

People ate pastries decorated with foxes on the fourth day. Four: the number that sounded like “death.”

On the fourth day of the New Year, children fought to be the ones to bite off the fox’s head. No, not just any head. Piri’s head. My head.

What kind of tradition was this?!

STOP! I roared.

The humans all froze, Cailus with the crudely painted fox’s head right between his teeth.

In the goddess’ name, I command you to stop!

Mistress Jek was the first to drop to her knees and prostrate herself, followed by Taila, Master Jek and Ailus, Nailus, and finally Cailus.

“Wha-wha-what have we done wrong, emissary?” quavered Mistress Jek.

This barbarous behavior is unworthy of the goddess’ chosen one! I stabbed a forefoot at Taila.

The girl had managed to prostrate herself with her palms still cupped around her fox cake.

Hunting down and killing foxes! Symbolically biting heads off foxes! You know better than that!

From the Jeks’ blank expressions, they didn’t actually know better than that – but did know better than to question me.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a fox! Any more than there is with being a human or a turtle or a cat or a snake or a duck or an ox! Foxes deserve decency and respect just like every other living creature! Do not make a game of their demise!

Shamed, they bowed their heads further. (Except Taila and Cailus, who were more concerned with protecting their pastries.)

“Yes, emissary,” murmured Mistress Jek. “We’re sorry we upset the most merciful goddess. We’ll never do it again.”

Good. I glared at each of them in turn, not that they could see me.

“Should we – ” Master Jek sounded pained, but forced out the question anyway. “Would it please the goddess for us to…not eat the fox cakes?”

Whimpers rose from the children, although none of them dared object.

Now that I’d calmed down, I surveyed their bowed heads and sighed once more. It wasn’t the children’s fault that their ancestors had developed this disgusting tradition of painting foxes on top of pastries and making a game of biting their heads off. And depriving these four children of their dessert wasn’t going to change the general attitude towards foxes or bring back all the ones who’d been murdered.

Not to mention, I might get negative karma for spoiling the kids’ big day.

The goddess is ever merciful, I pronounced. She would want the little ones to have their treat.

That was certainly true – Aurelia would have no objection to Taila biting off a fox’s head in effigy.

Sighs of relief whooshed out of the Jeks, followed by a chorus of heartfelt “Thank you, thank you, emissary!” which I accepted graciously.

Producing his pocketknife, Master Jek hacked the cakes in half through the foxes’ backs, then passed each child a piece.

I winced at the sight, but it seemed like the best I was going to get.